When Stars Aline
by SouffleGirl1313
Summary: Its normal, a day in and day out thing. London's as dreary and evasive as always, shifting with the shadows that surround it, but she does not care. She had seen all of time and space, and one day simply turning on the telly renders the impossible, very, very possible...it can't be, her sanity reasons, ah, but it is...AU Wholock
1. Chapter 1

The names SouffleGirl, and feels are the game, enjoy! ;D

Again. That is the only thought that registers through her already stunned mind, the one that is having trouble comprehending little to nothing, with the cold cup of tea long abandoned on her coffee table, and the television screen long ago faded black. This morning the most innocent of gestures led to the fall, the fall of her sanity, just like that bloke she had heard about a couple of days ago who jumped off a building nearby. _What drove him mad? _She wondered silently to herself. But that was a distraction, a distraction from the thoughts she all too much wanted to ignore. She had heard the name in passing, once or twice from a friend. An actor, a good-looking actor at that rate too, they had mentioned but nothing that registered as important in her lately preoccupied mind.

Then she picks up the morning paper outside one day, hastily flipping through it, in hopes of a job opening, she sees a small, picture less article with his name, stating that he was recently up for some prestigious award. She had sighed and thought nothing of it, a little annoyed if anything. _All these big stars and their awards, what is that compared to galaxies and other worlds and- no. _she wouldn't think it, not even in her head. The name she longed to hear, dreamed to say and answer to, was gone, and she didn't need yet another reminded of that. Weeks pass and she hears about the actor again, several times actually on the radio between her way to and from various job interviews, but nothing that stuck efficiently in her mind. She leaves the house one day hurried and just catches a reporter talking about the actor again, as she grabs her keys, she hears her say something about his hair, a compliment perhaps, but is too busy rushing outside to hear the rest.

This morning, it was- well, "normal" is never quite the right word, but a lapse of time that was subjected to a routine, albeit not a necessarily good one, but a routine all the same. She would get the paper, scan it quickly for the job ads, usually in disgust, and then make breakfast. This consisted of a scone or biscuit and two cups of tea- one for herself and one that she made out of habit and heartbreak, usually left sitting cold on the table for the remainder of the day , just another small reminder of what she had lost. She would drain the cup at night when she had the energy to, defeated, as tears clouded her vision of the rather lonely tea mug. Although she seldom used the television, with all the programs dimming in comparing to past memories that seemed like a life time ago, she would watch it for a bit in the morning to hear about the latest news. Truthfully, although she denied it, there was always the hope that some obscure alien life taking over the U.K. again or a surprise invasion was making the headlines. Sadly, this morning held none of those hopeless whims, but rather an interview with actors and actresses for the upcoming BAFTA awards. The sun was giving off an almost stupidly cheerful amount of light and she had a rather promising job interview later in the afternoon. She rolled her eyes, but continued to watch the television, _anything to keep my mind off of the inevitable, at least for today, _she thought. She doesn't pay too much attention to the screen in front of her, absentmindedly glancing up between that and the paper.

The host announces they will be interviewing one of the most highly acclaimed actors of this year, with an over dramatic flourish of his hand and fans cheering wildly for the man who is about to walk out. The host says with strained enthusiasm over the deafening noise of the crowd "David Tennant, ladies and gentlemen". This mildly holds her attention, wondering what all the fuss could be over one ordinary human, man when he walks out onto the stage shaking the hands of the host. The first glimpse of him, she knows she's simply hallucinating. _Slim and a little bit foxy._ The second glance, she knows it's not possible, _the hair, that hair, and the pinstripe suit. _The third glance, with his face fully angled at the camera now, the face she had longed to see, the eyes that could willingly keep her gaze there forever, were now staring intently at her through the screen. _I've lost my mind,_ she thinks unblinking, not daring to look away from the show before her, because it doesn't matter that he's shaking hands with the crowd now or that he's been nominated for being in a certain World War II four part drama. She sits right through the commercials about tea, and clothing sales and an add asking about a campaign to believe in someone named Sherlock Holmes, sponsored by some obscure man named John H. Watson.

When the show returns, she realizes, it does not matter that the very real man on the television set is announcing his name as David Tennant or that he will be at the BAFTA's that night at eight to hopefully accept an award. What matters is that she, Rose Tyler's, her very lonely and impossible traveler is in the U.K., in London for that matter, only miles and not a universe away. She's trembling now, running for her laptop to do a full search of this man now, _but it doesn't matter _she thinks, scarcely believing it, with tears of raw emotion clouding her eyes, _my Doctor is back..._

_SO, SHOULD I CONTINUE THE STORY? RATE,REVIEW,COMMENTS, SUGGESTIONS, CONCERNS, FEELS, AND ALL FANGIRL/BOYING NOTIONS ARE ACCEPTED AND GREATLY APPRECIATED!_


	2. Chapter 2

_It's him,_ is all she can think over and over again. Scottish accent, some facial hair, and enough nominations for acting awards to outweigh his regenerations, but clear as day, it's him… and suddenly she has a plan underway. Not one that is well constructed or even remotely sane, but it is a plan none the less. Hastily, she throws on the nicest possible outfit in her closet, grabs her keys, and without truly thinking things through she is on her way to crash the BAFTA's. Passing traffic and entering the place was tedious enough, when she finally parks and steps out of the car. _Hundreds of thousands of bloody people_ she thinks, _why did it have to be this big of an event!_ She knows better than to walk up to a security guard and manages to get in unnoticed with the hordes of people making their way in.

It reminds her of the time the Doctor and her dressed up to go to Victorian London and tried blending in. she isn't quite sure if the memory is what makes her stumble after entering or what motivates her to get up. After brushing herself off she notices the television screens all around the waiting area she has found herself in, one of them is showing something she can't look away from; a clip of a reporter interviewing David Tennant.

She doesn't remember what his answer to the first few questions the reporter asked was but it's the last one that makes her heart feel as though someone just plunged a dagger into it.

The reporter smiles "And yes, we heard you would be taking a long vacation somewhere far away- some time to get out of the lime light, yes?"

He responds with a nod and explains it will give him some time to relax and that he would be leaving as soon as the ceremony ends. But Rose certainly knows better than that. She sees the worry, and fear in his eyes, the ones that contradict the just a bit too strained smile…the eyes she knows far too well. He would be leaving in the T.A.R.D.I.S. once more and he would be leaving at the end of the BAFTA's for that matter. _No. Not again,_ Is all she thinks as she quickens her pace, narrowly avoiding bumping into the too many guests that take up all the space in the room,_ I won't let the universe take you from me again. _

Sometime later, she gets the sense she's being watched, with each step she feels as though someone will tap her on the shoulder and ask for I.D. Glancing behind her, with confirmed suspicion she sees a guard angrily rushing towards her. Breaking into a full sprint she stumbles upon the private rooms of people who will be later presenting at the BAFTA's. She tries the first door_ locked darn it…_ she silently second one she yanks the handle,_ no bloody give._ The guard is now just yards away when she practically barges into the third room, locking the door, and sinking to the floor out of breath, relief washing over her with just as much dread. She was safe for now, but no closer to finding the Doctor. Tears begin to sting her eyes _what if I can't find him, what if he doesn't know who I am, what if I'm too late…_her thoughts are interrupted by a figure standing across the room that had only now just turned around.

Mouth open a bit in shock he mumbles "Oh bloody, just sod this…"

She looks up "I can explain, I promise, if I don't find my, m-my friend soon I'm going to lose him forever…please…"

The man does not try to help her up but instead sits down beside her, he's willing to listen to her, because what she has said is all too familiar, an echo in fact, of things in his life, things he is constantly reminded of, but cannot bear to think of. He gives her a small smile and she notices his eyes tell a much different story then the smile, a much darker one.

"What's your name?" she asks in a soft tone.

He briefly makes eye contact with her "John, John Watson…"

"Rose Tyler" she replies he sits across from her, glancing over as if trying to deduce what she is going to do, or say, or even why she is here. But nothing comes and that is just another reminder, another ache of what he has lost, because _Sherlock would know, Sherlock always knew_ he thinks.

Sighing he turns to her and says "Alright then, I don't know who you bloody are but I'm willing to listen…"


	3. Chapter 3

_Do I tell him_? She ponders, because at this point the truth may in fact, not be the best option, _the truth can get me escorted out in a straightjacket_ she muses. However before deciding against the idea entirely she studies the man in front of her, when she realizes there's something familiar about him...something..._oh _she thinks. So _that's why..._this was the man who lived with someone closer to the Doctor than anyone in certain aspects.

In fact, she and the man standing in front of her seemed to share one thing in common. They both became the heart of someone who could be cold, who could be distant, and someone who seemed awfully lonely. It is the same someone who was also equal parts brilliant, and insane, as well as otherworldly. Someone who was gone, she thinks turning her thoughts to the newspaper article she had seen a few weeks ago.

She looks at the man and says very clearly "I am looking for a man who owns an old blue police box. He is out on that stage right now, and if I don't get to him, I'll never see him again" the last part she chokes out in equal parts disbelief and grief. _Again, _the word echoes hollowly through her mind, _you lost him once and now you're losing him again._

The man raises an eyebrow "Are you feeling alright?"

She clenches her teeth -why would he believe her, she was foolish to even hope, as hope often does that to us, but then she is hit by an idea.

_The Doctor would by proud_, she muses.

"Would you trade anything to see him alive again, anything to see him next to you smiling, annoying the bloody hell out of you because he said something so much smarter? What wouldn't you give for a moment of the madness and adventure, for the life you used to live? what would you give to have the one person back, who made you feel important, who made you feel alive?" She finishes.

He clenches his jaw, but a look at his eyes, easily give away the nerve she has hit

"H-h-ow, do you know about him?" he doesn't mean the papers; he means how she knew exactly how she had described the man, the life that they once had.

"Because I had a madman once too. He couldn't stay, had to leave actually… to save me…" She swallows, murmuring the last part.

"Mine too "The man says softly.

"Sir, John, whatever you bloody name is, do you remember the time those…well, fake spaceships were seen on the telly?" She has to hold her tongue on the word fake.

She then gives him a small smile "The aliens, all real, I've seen them, I've traveled with the man who saved earth…"

"Okay- I don't know how much to believe but I'll help you. I've sort of started believing in some crazy things since well- you know..." He finishes hastily.

"Yeah, they do that to you...make you think madness is normal and the other way around." She chuckles. For the first time, things seem to be looking up, if only slightly.

"So, where do we go then…?" She asks.

"What's the mad blokes name again?" He reciprocates the small smile.

"He goes by the name David Tennant here, he's really The Doctor though, from

Galifrey, but that's a bit of a story." She replies.

He quickly scans the schedule list that was lying on a nearby table. "Well Mr. Tennant

appears to currently be in the dressing room on the 6th floor…Elevator?" He holds out his hand to her as she opens the door to the dressing room.

"Works for me..." She says, with an impish smile forming. For the first time, the two

people who have known so much despair, both begin to believe in the notion of happiness, not entirely but a reflection of it; they both believe that things will finally be looking up for the first time in a long time. And oh my dear readers, how sorry I am to say, that it will truly look the opposite of their exact sentiments.


	4. Chapter 4

They walk, as inconspicuously as possible to the elevator going down the corridor to the lobby. Quite frankly, they do look rather inconspicuous if you think about it, as no one else really knows what's on their minds. They make an interesting pair, the two of them actually. The quieter, steadier, slightly saner, other half of an originally zanier pairing: now both thrown together in times of crisis, a rather mismatched coupling. Yet somehow, in a twisted way, they fit. Each was mercilessly ripped from the half they had been throw into a mess with and began to snuggly fit into the other. Here, was the product of the two halves that remained and against all odds, come together to take back what is theirs.

But I'm getting far too sentimental, back to the two of them stepping into a quiet elevator, save for the overbearing music playing in it. Not many people are allowed up on the sixth floor where they go, as not many have access. In short, it should have been a nice quiet ride. _Should have been…_The man quietly taps against the elevator door.

"You voted Saxon?" The girl looks at him incredulously.

He smiles, giving her a curious look. "How do you…even remember that?"

"Well, a good friend of The Doc-I mean Mr. Tennant's, did a great deal to bring down the wretched man, he owes her a lot…"

"Wish she could have handled a certain villain I knew…" He says very quietly.

She doesn't really know how to respond. "I'm sorry, you know? I don't think I've officially said that yet…"

He looks her in the eyes. "Thanks…I mean…coming from you…it feels like a real apology, not like the bloody reporters."

She laughs a little "They are manic I tell you, positively stark-raving, I mean…they don't seem to understand, when your near a spacecraft, with a potentially threatening bloke, don't flash your bloody cameras."

The man laughs and then very abruptly stops.

"Rose" he says very quietly… "The music…did you hear?"

She looks confused for a second. "No I don't hear…why…oh my-"Realization hits her.

"They probably blew the dammed fuse on the power… said we could lose it you know, with all the fanfare and what not…I'm so stupid…I've been so distracted…" he says wearily.

"Now, don't go blaming yourself, we'll get out of this…we will…" she says trying to muster reassurance. Her voice falters as the light flicker out.

"John…" She whispers.

"Yes, Rose… I'm, I'm here…" He says forcefully.

She's silent for a minute; I think her voice startles him when she speaks. "Say you're a military man, right? And I've traveled loads of times, climbing and what not…so what do you say…?"

Realization dawns on him. "We unhinge the panel from the top, and you mean…climb up? That's mad…that's absolutely…"

She's already unscrewed the panel and gently putting it on the ground when he finishes. "It's the only way; otherwise security will question us and know…please?"

"Your starting to sound like him you know that?" He smiles and you can hear it in his voice.

She grins in the darkness "My madman or yours? Now go on, I'll boost you up…for height reasons!"

Slowly, she hoists him up, and out through the open paneling.

Clinging to the rope he says through gritted teeth, "we'll have to climb down, then take the stairs…it's not so bad…just 4 floors I think we went…maybe three…" He is so used to reassuring someone else.

Minutes pass and now she clings to the top of the rope, as he descends the bottom.

Breathing a sigh of relief he calls up to her "Alright, just inch your way down, and we'll be good to go."

"Alright…I'm doing alright…" she calls down.

Slowly, gripping her footing, grasping the cables, progressing a few centimeters at a time.

She's near the second floor now, not so bad, and nearly at the half way mark.

Sweat cakes her brow as she inches further down, fingers numb from grasping.

_Just keep going, almost there almost to The Doctor…and I'll finally tell him…_

Her thoughts are interrupted by a whirring noise. "John, what was…?"

But before he can tell her to jump, or even to move, she is thrown mercilessly from the cable, like a rag doll, as the elevator moves upwards.

"Rose…ROSE?! No...no...please…not again" The man's voice echoes from below. He cannot see the body falling in the darkness, much like the one that fell in daylight far too recently. But just like that, he hears the thud. Bones hitting the ground from several stories up: breaking, cracking, crumbling.

He rushes over to her now still form, she grips his hand lightly. He keeps telling her she'll be alright, she shakes her head softly, the conscious grasp of thought fading remarkably quick "John… please…listen to me…see him…tell him…The Doc- David Tennant…that I love him, okay? Promise me…"

He feels tears welling in his eyes. _Again, it's happening again. I watched another person fall, hell, I caused it…I'm too late…_His voice cracks, supporting her back with his hands he lifts her up "I-I promise…you're going to be fine…please…please just hold on, I already lost him, I can't lose you too…not this way." He begins to ask her questions, but all too late, she's lost consciousness, and he thinks, grief washing over him_. _ He begins to make his way to the exit; the only thing mattering is the limp body in his hands. _I'll save her, I have to, please, if there's anyone up there, please, let her get her happy ending even if I don't get mine…_but as he opens up the door, and gets her to the medical area as quick as possible, the flash of cameras, and far too curious onlookers already trailing close behind, his mind retaliates with one last thought. _I couldn't save him either…_


End file.
